Mutants and Magic SYOC
by sparrhawk
Summary: "A potential threat to one's own kind must always seem a crime. In loyalty to their kind, they will not tolerate our rise; and in loyalty to our kind, we will not tolerate their obstruction" Still accepting OCs for recurring/guest roles (unless I end up liking them a lot, then they might join the main group later on)
1. Prologue

Evolution – The gradual change of the genetic makeup of organisms. It's happened and has continued to happen since creation. Even in the time of kings, legends and magic, genetically advanced human beings have roamed the earth, oblivious to their significance. Many gifted as such back then were often seen as sorcerers, feared, and more often than not, killed.

Years went by, and the lynchings persisted. Hope gradually turned into dismay, dismay into desperation, and desperation became hatred, an insatiable thirst for vengeance against those who had persecuted their kind.

By 500 AD, their numbers had dwindled, but they did not die off. Nature would not allow it – for the extinction of the stronger. They continued to live among humans, pretending to be normal.

* * *

**Hey! So I've decided to try my hand at an SYOC (submit your original character) fic. Basically, you guys can send me characters that I'll write about in this story. It'll be set in the BBC Merlin's universe, but it'll have some elements from X-men in it (namely just the existence of mutants). _To prevent this fic from being taken down, the rules, character submission form and example is on my profile._**

**Disclaimer: If I owned BBC's Merlin, I wouldn't refer to it as BBC's Merlin in the first place... X-men belongs to Marvel.. And a shout-out to Aemia who started the idea of medieval mutants on fanfiction!**


	2. Character List

Thank you so much to everyone who submitted! Unfortunately I couldn't choose too many (unless I massacre the lot of them) as I will be bringing in the Canon characters later on. But even if your character isn't in this list, they will most probably pop up somewhere with a recurring or guest role (though when that does happen, they will most likely be non-mutants/sorcerers or antagonists, erm PM me if you've any violent objections?).

Protagonists: (I decided not to have a leader for this group, as they are actually more of fighting for their own survival as opposed to a cause)

Quinn Fletcher (cutekitty5597)

Thea Harker (Goddess of Mischief94)

Yelena Thorn (sparrhawk)

Hagen Kroyer (missfervant)

Arya Crow (LostValkyrie)

Vincent Grey (King Okami)

Antagonists:

Leader- James Holden (Return of the Valkyrie)

Nigel Blackwood (Death's General)

Thyri Jokul (missfervent)

Supporting Antagonists - Cecily Buford (Hobgoblin73)

- Philip Lansdale (sparrhawk)

I haven't really sorted out the mains and supporting characters yet, as for now, I feel like I am able to write all them as mains. However, I've realised that when people use a lot of OCs in their fics, they tend to lose focus and eventually abandon it. So if I find that I'm unable to handle this many characters, some may be dropped to supporting roles. Don't worry though, supporting characters still get a lot of chapter time. The only difference is that they are fitted into the story arcs of the other characters as opposed to having their own story arc.


	3. Chapter 1

With his ears ringing from the sounds of the alarm bells, his vision clouded with tears, and every part of his body aching with exhaustion, Nigel ran on. Nothing was going to stop him – not the putrid stench of the underground waste site, not the gash in his abdomen, and certainly not the guilt of having to leave his friends behind, of leading them into a battle with no chance of success.

What was he thinking? How could a group of malnourished prisoners and slaves ever overpower the knights of Amata; Knights whom he had personally trained, with whom he had fought alongside, a long time ago, before his king turned on him?

Nigel pushed the memories back into the recesses of his mind before any more could resurface, before the gruesome ones were evoked. He could not afford to think about that now. He had to get out.

Upon reaching the end of the path, Nigel smeared his blood onto the locked gates, writing in runes only he could understand, muttering an enchantment.

The symbols then began to heat up, melting the metal in the process. Nigel pushed the gate away and made his way out – out of the kingdom of Amata and into the woods that surrounded it.

He finally allowed himself to rest at daybreak. After stripping off his blood soaked shirt, he drew similar symbols on himself and uttered out another spell. Finally, he rested against a tree bark and let the fatigue, the guilt, and the grief overcome him. He blacked out.

* * *

"This is very unlike you James," Thyri wondered aloud, "unless they hold a title, you never involve yourself in the recruitment of beings like us."

"Nigel Blackwood is no mere prisoner my dear; he was once the leader of the knights of Amata. And based on the symbols in Cecily's vision, he seems to possess the knowledge of Balthazar's magic."

"Balthazar? The high priest? Was he not killed during The Great Purge?"

"I thought so too," James replied and waved her off before she could say anything else, signalling his wish to end the conversation.

He turned his attention back onto the red-haired girl leading them, "Cecily, it is almost dawn, are you certain we are headed the right way?" The four of them had been walking since they heard the alarms sounded and his patience was wearing thin.

Cecily nodded quickly and gestured ahead, willing for James to wait just a little longer.

Surely enough, as the sun began to rise, they came across a figure, resting against a tree. He was the escaped prisoner; there was no doubt about that – if his injuries and unkempt and filthy condition were anything to go by. In fact, James deduced, he had probably been imprisoned and tortured for a good length of time. His dark hair and beard were tangled and overgrown; signs of long term starvation were clearly evident; and he was covered not only with the fresh injuries he had attained from his escape, but those that were half healed and scars that were most certainly attained long ago, the positions of which made them highly unlikely to have been received from battle. More importantly, however, he noticed with no small degree of satisfaction, the symbols on his dark skin were identical to the ones Cecily had drawn out. James smirked as he signalled for his male companion to take Nigel – turning Nigel was going to be much easier than he thought.

* * *

_Left swing, block, right, parry, right thrust. With that, another guard fell to the floor. Nigel spun and got ready to take on another. Exhaustion was catching up to him; they had to end this soon. But, there were just too many. A scream. Nigel turned towards the sound, praying that wasn't who he thought it was. "No! Liliana!" A voice ripped through the air, followed by the sound of sobs. Nigel ran towards the fallen figure, brushing her dark hair away from her face. The battle around him became a blur, as he focused solely on her. She smiled weakly at him. She was saying something. He couldn't quite hear her, the damned sobbing was too loud. Get… Safely? _

_"We have to get out of here Nigel," another voice tore him away from his reverie, "she's gone."_

_Nigel looked up, startled. The sobbing stopped. "I'm not leaving them," he heard himself say._

_"We have to. A path's been cleared. We'll live to fight another day," with that, he felt a pair of strong arms take hold of him, pulling him away._

"No!" he yelled, sitting up. This wasn't the dungeons; what about the riot? "No," he mumbled again, his voice barely above a whisper this time, as memories came flooding back in. But this wasn't the forest either. He looked around carefully, taking in every bit of his surroundings. He was in a small room, simply furnished, lit up by sunlight streaming in from a small window to the left of the bed.

He began to stand and was surprised to find that he had new clothes on, and that the blood on him had been washed off. His spell had worked, and his wounds had mostly healed by now. Seeing no use for the bandage, he tore it off and made his way to the door, wracking his brains, trying to remember what happened in the forest.

The hallway outside the room was much more elaborate. The floor was lined with a deep red carpet, embellished with golden embroidery. And candlesticks of gold and silver rested on wooden tables carved with intricate designs.

"You're awake," A man spoke as he walked towards him, grabbing his shoulders. Before he could react, he felt his insides churn terribly. An invisible force seemed to be pressing down on him from all sides, as if trying to squeeze him through a dreadfully small hole. Then, everything went black.

The next thing he knew, he was in a different room, much larger than the first, and like the hall, was much more extravagant. It was a sitting room most likely, if the chairs, cushions and large fireplace were of any indication,

"Ah, Sir Blackwood, I'm glad to see you are feeling better," A tall, lean man addressed him, turning away from the fireplace to him.

"Come, sit" the dark haired man gestured to a chair, "Would you like something to drink? Hmm, given where you have been imprisoned I think you would appreciate some food as well." He gestured to the man who had grabbed him earlier, and the man disappeared.

Nigel stared at the space where the man had been standing not a moment ago, unable to believe what he had seen.

"You are shocked." A thin, fair skinned woman stated, "You practice sorcery, yet that surprises you."

Still unsure of whether to trust these people, Nigel asked warily, "How do you know that? Who are you? Where am I? What do you want?"

"The symbols you wrote with your blood – they are the same kind used by a High Priest. Tell me, does the name Balthazar sound familiar to you?" The man who had offered him food answered.

Nigel shook his head.

"Indeed, yet you practice his magic. Interesting… Well, my name is James Holden, I am the Earl of Redwood, and you are in my home," Lord Redwood continued, "The woman who addressed you is Thyri Jokul, and the other red haired girl in the corner there is Cecily Buford."

As he finished the introductions, the man from earlier appeared again, carrying a tray of food, a jug and a goblet.

"And as you can see, all we have done is take you to a safe place, clothe you, and feed you. We mean you no harm." Lord Redwood smiled reassuringly, taking a piece of bread for himself, as if indicating to Nigel it was safe to eat.

Nigel's stomach growled unbecomingly, he couldn't remember the last time he had a proper meal. However, he was still hesitant in accepting their offer.

"If we wanted to kill you we would have done so long ago," Thyri deadpanned.

Finally deciding that he was in no immediate danger, he took the food.

He ate like an animal, not bothering with the cutlery, he tore at the chicken with his hands and crammed handfuls of bread into his mouth, washing it down with deep gulps from the goblet. Thyri crinkled her nose in disgust, "Keep at it like that, and you'll be the cause of your own death. You were starved for a long time Sir Blackwood, your body won't be able to take on a sudden large intake of food."

With that, Nigel slowed down. He was still trying to take everything in – the disappearing man, the girl in the corner who had not spoken a word since his arrival, the other one who seemed to have a dislike for him, and of course the Earl who had so generously taken him in. But, Nigel couldn't help but wonder, why was he being so kind? Nigel voiced his concerns.

"Because I look out for my kind Sir Blackwood," James replied simply.

"Your kind?" Nigel didn't understand.

"People who are special. Sorcerers. Individuals gifted with abilities that normal people are incapable of."James explained. As he did so, Thyri stood up from her seat and bent herself backwards, folding herself completely in half, then squeezing her torso through her legs so her head was upright to get a good look at him. Nigel stared on, unable to form a proper thought, his mouth agape. Nigel was no expert, but this definitely was not magic. Again, Nigel voiced out his thoughts.

"That's because it's not. Thyri was born like this, just like Philip" James answered, indicating to the man who could appear and disappear in a split second, "They don't practise magic, they just possess these specific gifts."

Nigel accepted that fact easily enough, but he was still suspicious of Lord Redwood's motives, "And just because of that you wish to help me? It can't be that simple; you want something from me."

"I want the same thing as you."

Nigel looked up at James questioningly, and the Earl continued, "You want to take down King Sarrum do you not? I want to take down all kings who oppose our kind, Sarrum being one of our main enemies. You help me in my conquest, and I promise you, you will be given all the resources you need for your revenge. Do we have a deal Nigel?" James smiled, his greyish blue eyes gleaming with confidence, giving the Nigel the uneasy impression there was much more to this deal than as it appeared to be.

**I can't believe I got this out as quickly as I did! Sadly, the following chapters may not come as quickly... Life getting in the way and all... In case anyone is wondering, there is no Balthazar in BBC's merlin. He's just a made up deceased high priest. There is however a King Sarrum and the kingdom Amata. **

**Oh and Cecily was a last minute submission from Hobgoblin73, a seer was exactly what the Antagonists required so thank you very much for the submission! Philip was created by me as I still do not have any male commoners and James needed minions. So I am still accepting OCs for James' followers (they'll just be supporting/minor characters though).**


	4. Chapter 2

"Stop whistling Arya – that is very unladylike, not to mention incredibly unbecoming for someone of your status. Now straighten your back... Do not scowl."

Arya rolled her eyes. Half of her was bored to death, and the other half wanted to ring Lady Errin's neck. Of course she couldn't do so no matter how much she wanted to, as that too would probably _be incredibly unbecoming for someone of her status._ Sucking in a breath, she plastered a smile onto her face, masking her growing irritation. It would only take a few more days, after which she would never have to put up with this ever again.

They had been travelling for quite some time now, and trapped dead centre in the cavalcade of knights, there was no escape from Lady Errin's daily lectures on etiquette. She had been drilled so much on the proper way of presenting herself, she could even hear Lady Errin rambling on in her head as she slept!

"We will be reaching Caerleon soon. Remember to wait for a servant to assist you before getting down. And for goodness sake, jump down the horse again, and I will personally escort you to jump off one of the windows in the castle."

Arya knew she was bluffing, but still, exaggerated, empty threats were Lady Errin's way of telling her that she could make the next few days – or her entire life – very difficult indeed if she did not listen to her instructions. So, contrary to her urge to defy and share her annoyance and discontentment with her tutor, Arya made the wiser decision and did as she was told. And when they arrived at Caerleon, she once again followed instructions without protest.

The Kingdom of Caerleon was a sight to behold. The whole city was built on a hill – the settlements were built on stone structures that supported the entire city, and the citadel itself loomed over everything else, with immense towers that Arya swore could reach the heavens. She could not help but marvel at the structure ahead of her, and was only brought back to reality by a firm command from Lady Errin, telling her it was boorish to gape.

They were greeted by a banner if knights, lords and ladies standing in attention on the front steps of the castle, at the head of which was a family dressed in fine robes, with gold crowns adorned on their heads.

The booming voice of the king rang out, "Knights of Etaydus, Caerleon welcomes you and extends the hand of friendship." With that, the contingent parted for Arya to move forward.

After descending from her horse, Arya followed Lady Errin's lead and curtsied slowly, trying to sort through all the instructions she had been given, and taking great care to ensure that her posture was correct. A small pleased smile tugged at her lips as she caught Lady Errin glancing at her nervously.

"Princess Arya, you are most welcome." The king greeted pleasantly as he stepped forward.

"Thank you your highness," Arya spoke carefully, recalling her script.

King Caerleon nodded then stepped away from Arya, turning to face the crowd, his voice once again filling the square, "Tomorrow, there will be a great feast to welcome our friends."

After his announcement, he turned back to address Arya, his voice much softer and gentler, "You must be tired. Come, my servants will show you to your room."

-o0o-

Arya wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the bed upon reaching her room. It looked so warm and so soft, and she was ever so tired. The bed was lined with thick cotton sheets and piled with beautiful deep blue silk cushions with golden trimmings. Though undeniably large, the room was still cozy, with little cupboards, a dressing table and chests where her dresses were to be kept. A fire roared in a fireplace on the other side of the room, providing light and warmth.

Before she could do so much as sit down however, Lady Errin dismissed the servants and dragged her behind the curtains, giving her even more instructions as she got her cleaned and changed into her night dress. She was given a warm drink of milk and herbs, and she sipped it quietly as Lady Errin went on telling her about the next day's events, and reinforcing the proper way to behave.

"May I know how many days we are to stay here?" Arya asked politely as Lady Errin finally stood to take her leave.

Lady Errin paused, and Arya thought she saw a flicker of surprise pass across her features, "Oh, just a few days dear. You will be back home in no time," Lady Errin finished with a polished smile, and quickly left the room after bidding Arya goodnight.

* * *

Hagen couldn't help a small amused smile as his young cousin marched into his room sulking.

"I take it you are not too fond of your future wife?" Hagen started teasingly, "You haven't even spoken to her. You should not be so quick to judge, you may end up liking the princess for all you know."

"And who are you to preach about not placing judgement?" Prince Fendrel snapped, turning towards Hagen sharply.

Hagen's smile wavered slightly, but he waited patiently for his cousin to calm down. After a while, Fendrel stopped pacing, and came to sit beside Hagen.

"It's not as if you have a choice in this Fendrel. You have known all along that the Kingdom always comes first. If a union between you and an unknown princess is what is required to maintain peace, you have to accept it. No objections. You must as well give her a chance. There is no point in giving yourself grief over a matter you cannot change." Hagen advised, placing a hand on Fendrel's shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

"I don't think I can," Fendrel admitted, rubbing his temple. For a boy barely in his adolescence, Fendrel already had lines of exhaustion beginning to form on his face. His once bright blue eyes now seemed darker, more sullen, weighed down by the responsibilities that came with being the first in line for the throne. Hagen almost felt bad for his cousin. He was so much older, yet the amount of responsibility he bore was nothing compared to the young boy beside him.

Hagen sighed, "You have to try at least. You will be meeting her properly tomorrow and I doubt your father will appreciate you being anything less than polite towards her."

Fendrel looked at Hagen sadly, resignation beginning to settle on his features, replacing his earlier indignation.

"Do not worry so much yet, it is only a betrothal, you have still a few years before the actual marriage." Hagen gave another attempt at cheering up his cousin, "You're actually lucky in a way – most princes never meet the person they are to marry till several days before the wedding. You, however, have a few years to interact with and get to know your wife-to-be."

"You mean she is to stay here even before we are married?" Fendral asked incredulously.

Hagen shrugged, "She will be living here henceforth. Both kings thought it'd be best to give you both time to get to know each other, and this will give Arya time to get a better grasp of how Caerleon is to be run as well."

In truth, Hagen found the kings' decision odd as well. Everything did seem a little… premature. Princess Arya would be able to learn about Caerleon just as well after marriage. And coming to live in Caerleon now was much too early, especially since both Princess Arya and Prince Fendrel were far from the coming of age... There was something amiss, but Hagen just could not quite put his finger on it.

"Say we do not get along then, even after all this time; you mean to tell me this betrothal would voided?" Fendrel scoffed.

They both knew the answer, and Fendrel was met with silence.

"I thought not," he said bitterly, before stalking out of Hagen's room.

* * *

Arya hated gowns; Not to say they weren't pretty. In fact the ball gown she wore today was probably the prettiest she'd ever seen. The fabric of the gown itself was pale pink, the bodice and skirt was festooned with small handmade white lilies, a fine delicate lace trailed up the side trim panels of the skirt and the back trim sashes, and small beads were interwoven into the skirt's front panel. However, they pinched at her sides, and clean as they were, itched. So, whenever she saw no one looking, Arya took the chance to pull and scratch at her sleeves and the sash around her waist. It wasn't very hard, given that Lady Errin was busy managing the servants, to pay Arya much attention. Arya just had to be alert of the times when Lady Errin did check up on her.

While conscious every second of the discomfort she felt due to her attire, Arya found it surprisingly easy being polite, light hearted and charming. Presently, the great hall was filling up with distinguished, well respected men and women. Arya flitted among them, smiling sweetly and offering pretty answers whenever they spoke to her. Little did she know however, that every move she made was watched intently by a set of scrutinising eyes.

**Heheh, sorry there isn't much going on in this chapter. I'm still in the process of introducing the characters and explaining how they got to where they are. The next chapter will continue from this and should be a little more interesting... Hopefully I can get it up soon. :)**


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